


Practice Makes Perfect

by little_dark_things



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_dark_things/pseuds/little_dark_things
Summary: Based off spnkinkmeme prompt:Dean is 13 and has kissed a couple of girls. The problem is that it wasn't anything special like movies made it out to be. Dean decides it's because he isn't very good at it yet and he needs practice. Enter 9 year old Sam, always around and always eager to help his big brother. So he uses Sammy as his practice dummy, kissing him until it starts to feel good, kissing him until Sammy says it feels good too, and then kissing until it's difficult not to rub against him. After that it makes sense to practice other stuff too. Girls have boobs and touching them is suppose to feel nice and make girls feel nice, so he practices that on Sam too. Touching Sam's chest is boring at first, but once he figures out it's the nipples that make it feel good things get better. Sam seems to like that a lot.





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first attempt at writing anything this explicit, so let me know what you think. It's also my first time posting here so hopefully everything is formatted correctly, etc. Fingers crossed it isn't complete trash :) Enjoy!
> 
> Based off a spnkinkmeme prompt, which can be read in its entirety in the end notes. I didn't follow the prompt exactly, but hopefully the OP enjoys anyway :)

There's this girl in Dean's sixth period math class. Her name is Valerie Rosen and she's absolutely gorgeous. Long, shiny black hair, big blue eyes and, best of all, the biggest tits in eighth grade. Every day she wears these itty-bitty tops that have her boobs practically spilling out of the neckline, knee highs, and a skirt so short Dean saw her panties once when she bent down to pick up a fallen pencil. So maybe she's a bit of a slut, but that's okay; he ain't looking for a girlfriend. 

Two weeks into their stay in Oleo Springs, California, Dean's dreams come true. Well, kinda.

Valerie stops him with a hand on his arm before he can rush out class. He turns to look at her and she smiles, almost predatory. “Hey, Dean?”

He's got a clear view right down the front of her top and it's making him kinda hard. As a thirteen year old boy, it doesn't take much. He shifts and tucks his binder down lower over his crotch. “Hi, Valerie. What's up?”

“Well,” Valerie bats her lashes and sucks teasingly on her lower lip. She's the picture of schoolgirl seduction. “I've been having a little trouble with the homework and I was wondering if you'd mind coming over some time to help me?” 

Dean nearly trips over his tongue, trying to push out the right words. “Sure, I wouldn't mind.”

“Oh, good!” She springs up from her seat and presses a wet kiss to Dean's cheek. “My place after school on Friday?”

“Okay,” Dean stutters out, but she's already gone, leaving the lingering scent of her floral perfume. It doesn't matter. Nothing can bring him down from the high of being asked out by Valerie Rosen. 

*

Except…

The more Dean sits on the ratty motel couch and thinks about it, the more convinced he gets that he has made a grave and terrible mistake. It's not like Dean's never kissed a girl before. There was Madeline Clark in Utah and Emily Thomas in New Jersey, and a couple other girls whose names were a little hazy. None of them had ever complained about his skills and, judging by how easily Emily had let him get to second base, he was no slouch in the kissing department.

But still. This was Valerie Rosen, one of the most popular girls at Oleo Springs Middle School, and she'd probably kissed tons of guys by now. Tons of other guys who might've had more experience, better technique than him. If he wanted a chance to get under her top, he had to impress her. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sammy piped up from his chair at the table. His socked feet dangled a good inch or two from the floor as he swung his legs happily. “Could you help me with this problem?” He tapped his pencil against the paper, indicating the question that was giving him trouble.

“Yeah, c’mere,” Dean sighed and sat up, trying to push aside his kissing worries. Sam bounced out of his chair and came around to sit beside him on the couch, holding the packet out expectantly. Dean took it and smoothed the papers out on the coffee table. “Which one?”

“Number four. I keep getting a negative number but I know it's not right.” Sam let out a little huff of irritation and pushed his slick bottom lip out in a pout. 

Dean tried to pay attention to Sammy’s explanation of how to solve the problem, he really did. But all he could focus on was how small Sammy was, tucked up against him, how soft he was, how he smelled sweet and clean, how his lips were pinker than any girl’s. Maybe…

"Hey, Sammy?” Dean interrupted. Sam looked up attentively, ready to hang on his every word. There wasn't even a trace of annoyance at being cut off in the middle of a sentence. It was really a pity that this hero worship stuff wouldn't last forever, Dean thought. “Wanna do me a big favor?”

“Sure,” Sam agreed eagerly, “What d’you want me to do?”

“I have a date on Friday night with this really pretty girl named Valerie but my kissing skills are a little rusty. Wanna help me practice?”

Sam scrunched his nose up, a little frown marring his face. “But won't it be different? Than kissing a girl, I mean.”

“Maybe. But it's just for practice, not the real deal. C’mon, Sammy, please?” Dean begged. Sam considered him for a moment before finally nodding.

“Okay. What do I gotta do?” 

Dean thought about it for a moment, then pulled Sam closer on the couch and turned to face him. His eyes strayed momentarily to his brother's wide pink mouth before flicking back up to wide, trusting, green-blue-gold eyes, framed by thick brown lashes. Suddenly the room felt too hot. “Just follow what I do,” he whispered, licking his lips nervously. 

Slowly, not wanting to freak Sam out, Dean leaned in and pressed a quick, close-mouthed kiss to his brother's chapstick-soft lips. Sam let out a quiet, breathy noise when Dean pulled away. 

“Was that okay?” Dean asked. Sam nodded vigorously.  
Their kisses grew wetter, hotter. Dean started slow but Sam caught on quickly, moving his lips tentatively against Dean's. At the first hint of tongue, Sam had jumped and pulled away, staring at his big brother in shock. It took a minute to coax him into letting Dean stick his tongue in his mouth, but once he did it was worth it. Sammy opened easily, let Dean lick at every nook and cranny of his mouth. He made these hot little sounds; whimpers, gasps, moans that went right to Dean’s dick. 

After half an hour or so of heavy making out, Dean was forced to pull away from Sammy. His cock was pulsing uncomfortably in his jeans, trapped and constricted. It hurt like a motherfucker. He was about to excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of it when he noticed where Sam’s eyes were trained.

A hot blurt of precome pushed out of his slit. He groaned.

“Dean?” Sam's eyes lifted from his straining erection, searching his face for any sign of pain. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I gotta run to the bathroom real quick.” But before Dean could flee, Sam climbed into his lap, settling right over Dean’s dick. He almost shot off in his boxers at the sudden sensation. He couldn't contain the choked moan that accompanied it. “God, fuck, Sammy. You can't--”

“C-can I help you?” Sam whispered, red-faced. 

“You already did. You helped me practice.” Dean frowned, lifting his hands to Sam’s thin hips. 

“Y-your, um,” Sam shook his head, thick chestnut curls falling forward to curtain his face. Dean absently tucked several strands behind the kid's ear as he struggled for words. “It’s hard and it looks like it h-hurts you. I could help. I know how.”

A weird shiver-tingle ran along Dean's spine at those words. It wasn't like Sam had never seen porn before --Dad didn't exactly censor their TV watching and what Dean watched, Sammy watched too-- so he definitely knew what an erection was and he knew how to take care of one, too. He could do it, could unzip Dean’s pants and pull out his hard dick, tug on it, lick it, suck it. Fuck. Dean’s fingers clenched on Sam’s waist. 

“N-nah. I'm good.” It almost hurt to turn down down the offer. It would’ve felt so good to have those nimble fingers wrapped around his cock, but he couldn't. Sammy was still a kid. And he was Dean's little brother. 

“‘kay. But we can… keep practicing, right?” Sam bit his swollen lower lip. A jolt of lust clouded Dean's brain.

No. He should say no. This was all spinning out of control. But. “Sure, Sammy. 

*

Friday afternoon, after getting Sam settled in the motel room, Dean walked to Valerie’s house. She lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods near the school. Her house was large, set back from the street with a neatly mowed lawn and a front porch complete with a swing. The driveway was empty but there were lights on in the downstairs windows. He rung the doorbell and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

“Hi, Dean,” Valerie smiled as she pulled open the door and stepped aside to let him in. “I'm so glad you could come. Just leave your shoes on the mat and I’ll show you around.”

Dean quickly kicked off his sneakers, heart pounding. He followed Valerie through the house as she indicated various rooms, distantly impressed by the upscale furniture and tasteful decor. Mostly, he was fixated on the way her skirt barely covered her ass. They ended the tour upstairs in her bedroom. 

The walls were light pink, hung with posters of various boy bands and celebrities Dean didn't recognize. Her big canopy bed took center stage, neatly made up and piled with pillows and cutesy stuffed animals. Valerie took a seat on the edge of the mattress and patted the space next to her. “Come sit down, Dean. I wanna chat for a minute before we have to do homework.” 

“Okay,” Dean said lamely. His mind seemed to have short-circuited the minute he saw Valerie. He sat on the bed. “What d’you wanna talk about?”

“How do you like Oleo Springs?” Valerie prompted, scooting closer. Her bare thigh pressed right up against his. 

“It's real nice.” Dean shrugged. “Sure beats some other towns we've lived in.”

“I'm glad you like it here.” She laid one manicured hand on his arm, gently prompting him to face her. “Dean, I have a confession to make. I didn't invite you over to do homework. I really like you and I was hoping to find out if you feel the same way.”

“Of course I like you, Valerie,” Dean said. “You're the prettiest girl I ever met. And you're smart, too.” 

“Aw, thank you,” She batted her eyelashes sweetly and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. He froze, flustered, before instinct kicked in. All the things he'd practiced with Sammy came back to him and he brought out his A-game, trying to impress her.

The longer they kissed, the more Dean to began to realize a few things. First of all, Valerie was most definitely not the expert on kissing Dean had thought she would be. She was too forceful and she used way too much tongue for it to be good. His nine year old brother kissed better than she did. Second of all, Dean was not enjoying this. He performed the motions, but in his head, he was back in the motel room with Sammy on his lap. That was where he wanted to be right now, he realized. Not here, in some civilian bedroom, letting the prettiest girl in school suck on his tongue and squeeze his dick through his jeans. 

“You can touch me,” Valerie pulled away to say. She was panting, big tits heaving enticingly. “I don't mind.”

Dean didn't reply, but he did lean in. His hands slid under her tank top, pushing it slowly up her stomach until the cups of her lacy blue bra were revealed. He fumbled with the clasps for a minute before she reached back to help him, guiding his hands through the motions. The lacy undergarment and tank top were thrown aside and Valerie lay back on the bed, pulling Dean with her. 

Her boobs were creamy white, topped by two pale pink nipples. Dean’s mouth watered. Hesitantly, he brought both hands up to cup her chest, squeezing the soft, velvety globes. Valerie was silent, watching as he felt her up. He couldn't tell if she liked it or not, not like when he was with Sammy, who'd let out these moans and gasps when Dean's tongue licked into him just right. 

He shivered and moved his fingers to her big pink nipples, rolling them beneath his thumbs. Valerie made a small sound so Dean did it again, pulling a little this time. He was hard enough to pound nails by now, hips twitching against her thigh of their own volition. 

Then Valerie jerked away and sat up. Dean did too, thoroughly confused as he watched her put her bra and tank top back on. “What's wrong?”

“I don't like having my boobs touched. It doesn't really do anything for me, you know? But you can finger me if you want,” Valerie smirked seductively. “I'm plenty wet.”

“Ah, uh,” Dean fumbled for something to say. He'd never fingered a girl before, never even come close. This was new territory. “Actually, I probably need to get home. I gotta get dinner for my kid brother.”

“Oh.” Valerie frowned. “Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you in math on Monday.”

“Yeah. Uh, sorry.” Dean offered her an awkward smile before bolting from the bedroom. He jammed his feet back into his sneakers and slipped out the front door as quickly as he could. 

Outside, dusk was falling. The walk to the motel was quiet and uneventful. He slipped his key into the lock and pushed open the peeling yellow door. 

“Dean!” Sammy popped upright from where he'd been laying on the couch. 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the couch beside his brother. “Whatcha watching?”

“Discovery Channel. It's a documentary about monkeys. How was your date with Valerie?” 

Dean shrugged. “It was okay. I mean, she wasn't such a great kisser after all. And she wouldn't let me touch her tits. It was kinda disappointing.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why wouldn't she let you touch her boobs?” Sam clarified. He was watching Dean with open curiosity. “Doesn't it feel nice?”

“It's supposed to. She said she didn't like it.” Dean shrugged again. 

“Maybe you weren't doing it right,” Sam offered. “We could practice it if you want.”

Dean was gobsmacked. Was Sam saying… “But you--” He stopped, shook his head. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? “Are you sure you wanna, Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean. I'm sure.” And he looked sincere, practically vibrating out of his skin as he let Dean consider. 

“Okay.” Dean relented pretty easily. Sam wanted it, and he most definitely wanted it so it was okay. He beckoned to his lap and Sammy immediately obeyed. 

Dean was fully clothed, still in his sweatshirt and everything. Sammy was wearing one of Dean's t-shirts, which fit him like a dress, and a pair thin cotton briefs. The juxtaposition was so hot it made Dean's head spin, and something about Sam in his shirt sparked something rough and possessive deep down inside him. “You ready, Sammy?”

“Y-yeah,” Sam nodded, already breathless. Dean grinned.

They started out slow, just kissing. Sam hadn't forgotten what Dean had taught him a couple nights ago, letting his older brother take the lead and keeping his kisses soft and sweet until Dean pressed him for more. Dean was hard again, seemed like he always was these days, and his hands roamed uncontrollably, sliding against Sammy’s smooth bare legs and under his t-shirt. 

“Gonna let me play with your tits, Sammy? Gonna let me feel you up?” Dirty words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, but Sammy seemed to like it ‘cause he maked this little ‘uhn’ noise and pushed his chest out for Dean to touch. 

“Please, Dean, do it,” He whined, his own little hands coming up to knead his chest himself. The sight of Sammy touching himself punched a groan from Dean. His eyes were riveted to Sam, whose nipples were already stiff, poking against the shirt. Sammy rubbed at them and then pushed forward, rubbing them against Dean’s chest. A gush of precome wet his boxers and he couldn't stop himself from pressing a bruising kiss to Sammy’s swollen lips.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean panted into his little brother's petal pink mouth. “Slow down, slow down, God!” 

They both clawed at Sam’s hand-me-down t-shirt, but it was Dean’s fingers which managed to latch onto the hem. He slowly, torturously dragged the shirt up Sammy’s pale, skinny little chest, revealing tiny pink nubs, stiff with anticipation. 

Neither of them could suppress a moan as Dean rolled each nipple firmly into his mouth. He sucked and bit and licked until the turgid flesh was reddened and over-sensitive. Sam arched his back, pushing his chest forward. “Dean,” he moaned in his high-pitched baby boy voice. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't be sitting on the couch with his little brother writhing in his lap as he licked the younger boy’s nipples. But it felt good, Sammy’s plush little ass grinding down on his dick, soft pink flesh clenched between his teeth. Damned if Dean was gonna stop.

“F-feels funny,” Sam whimpered. “Dean, no, f-feels like I'm gonna--”

“Fuck, you gonna come, Sammy? Gonna come from me sucking on your tits? Do it. Come for me.”

“De!” Sam screamed. His body seized up, went rigid before he spasmed violently. “Ah!”

“That's it, fuck, gotta--” Dean thrust up, dragging his clothed dick against Sammy’s ass crack. Sam shuddered with the aftershocks of his dry orgasm, beginning to slump against him, warm and pliable. Fucked out. Dean's breath hitched. 

The next thrust caught the right angle, pushing right between Sammy’s plush cheeks. The little boy stiffened back up in Dean's lap and fucking moaned. He pushed back frantically, Dean rutting roughly against him. “That's it, that's it, gonna, gonna, Sammy--” 

A groan cut off his nonsense babbling as his orgasm ripped through him. He kept pushing, kept thrusting as the pleasure raced through his veins. Sammy just let him, just clung to Dean’s biceps and let him work. 

Warm wetness flooded his crotch and he slumped back, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Geez, Sammy, where'd you learn all that from? Fuckin’ sexy for a nine year old.”

Sam blushed and pushed his face into Dean's shoulder, shaking his head. “‘m not.”

“Yeah you are,” Dean ran his fingers soothingly through Sam’s hair, the other hand coming around to settle possessively on his lower back. “You okay? You liked it, right?” 

“‘Course, Dean. It felt good.” Sam lifted his head and smiled. The creeping guilt began to recede. Sam looked happy and satisfied, no sign that Dean had just accidentally traumatized him or anything. 

“Good.” He said smugly. “Guess I wasn't doin’ it wrong after all, huh?”

Sam nodded before looking away shyly. “But we could... practice a-again. If you w-wanna… T-to make sure.”

Dean grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is 13 and has kissed a couple of girls. The problem is that it wasn't anything special like movies made it out to be. Dean decides it's because he isn't very good at it yet and he needs practice. Enter 9 year old Sam, always around and always eager to help his big brother. So he uses Sammy as his practice dummy, kissing him until it starts to feel good, kissing him until Sammy says it feels good too, and then kissing until it's difficult not to rub against him. After that it makes sense to practice other stuff too. Girls have boobs and touching them is suppose to feel nice and make girls feel nice, so he practices that on Sam too. Touching Sam's chest is boring at first, but once he figures out it's the nipples that make it feel good things get better. Sam seems to like that a lot.  
> Then finally when Dean thinks he's ready to use his skills on a girl it's super disappointing, she isn't a good kisser like Sam and she won't let him make her chest feel good. So why bother? Sam always lets Dean make them both feel good.
> 
> Take it as far as you want.
> 
> (http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/118925.html?thread=42980237#t42980237)


End file.
